


i can’t do it, but you do it well

by awfuloffal



Category: Monster High
Genre: A whole lot of em, AU- separate since birth, Boypussy, Brother/Brother Incest, Dacryphilia, Flashbacks, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, tw holt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awfuloffal/pseuds/awfuloffal
Summary: Holt loves terrorizing his twin because Jackson’s a huge crybaby.Holt loves when Jackson cries because Jackson’s the prettiest boy he’s ever seen.
Relationships: Holt Hyde/Jackson Jekyll
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	i can’t do it, but you do it well

**Author's Note:**

> heyyyy y’all remember when I said I was taking a break from writing after my absolute monster of a fic. haha welllll
> 
> I DONT have a kink for crying normally but something about jackie makes me go absolutely feral.
> 
> also jackson has a pussy in this fic for no reason other than I want him to. 
> 
> holts a mildly abusive asshole as always but whatevs
> 
> please enjoy, the whole four of you.

Holt likes watching people cry.

He’s not a sociopath or anything, or a deliberate sadist bent on making people miserable. It just fascinates him because he  _ can’t _ . Oh he’s tried, scrunching up his face in the mirror or staring at the sun, thinking of those bad scary memories from childhood, but nothing.

He doesn’t have tear ducts, his fire elemental aunt explains to him one day. No need for them, the water just evaporates right off his skin. Add that to his seemingly endless energy and he was rarely down in the dumps at all to be sad about not being sad.

There’s one person he likes to see cry the most though. 

* * *

_ Jackson was the first person he can remember crying. They’re eight and he has the smoldering remains of Jackson’s science project in his hand, burnt up for a reason Holt can’t explain. _

_ He’s awestruck as he watches Jackson’s reaction, his face turning red as his eyes overfilled with water, fat tears flowing down his face. _

_ “What are you doing?” Holt asks dumbly.  _

_ Jackson doesn’t reply, just bursts into real tears. Scrubbing at his face with his sleeves, hiccuping between body-shaking sobs.  _

_ “W-why are y-you so m-mean to me?” Jackson wails. _

_ “Mom!” Holt drops the mess of styrofoam and pipecleaners and races downstairs, pulling at their mothers skirt. “Jackson’s leaking!” _

_ After she’s calmed Jackson down she admonishes Holt, making him promise to fix the project for his brother. _

_ “What was he doing?” Holt asks curiously. “Is he a water elemental?!” The idea excited him, having a monster for a brother rather than the lame human he was stuck with. _

_ Their mother shakes her head sternly. “No Holt. He was crying because you made him sad.” _

_ Holt looks from his mother to Jackson’s sleeping form, all worn out from his crying fit. _

_ “That’s weird.” He shrugs. “Normies are weird.” _

* * *

As he grew up, one thing became clear. 

Jackson cried the best.

He became obsessed with it, purposefully seeking out sad movies just to watch in wonder at the tears, gathering at the corners of eyes before slowly rolling down the actors cheeks. But even then they weren’t good enough, not what he was really looking for. The girls cried too daintily, and the boys didn't cry at all.

* * *

_ “My dad says that boys who cry are pussies.” Heath tells him when he asks. They’re fourteen and twelve, sitting in the backyard burning up leaves and bugs.  _

_ Holt looks up at the back porch, a clear view of Jackson sitting on the stairs and kicking his legs. He never wanted to play with them, said their games were cruel.  _

_ “Jackson cries all the time.” Holt remarks. “He even cries about silly stuff like movies.” _

_ Holt had seen an article in his mothers magazine about the top ten movies guaranteed to make you cry, went straight for number one and innocently invited his twin to a movie night. Jackson was bawling his eyes out before the ship even sank, curling his fists in Holt’s shirt and ruining it with his tears and snot.  _

_ It made Holt’s belly feel weird, tight and hot like a coiled spring. _

_ “Then Jacksons a pussy.” Heath rubs at his nose. _

_ “Yeah.” Holt lets go of a flaming twig, letting it fizzle out and fall to the ground. “He’s so lame.”  _

_ Heath smiles, a sharp cut across his face. “Hey Jackson!” He calls out. _

_ The normie boy raises his head at his name, obviously hesitant. _

_ “Come over here!” Heath waves his arms. _

_ “Yeah!” Holt joins in, already feeling excitement burn in his chest. “Tell us about this weird thing we found!” _

_ That grabs his attention and Jackson looks back at the safety of the porch before creeping forward, wringing his hands. _

_ “W-what is it?” He asks nervously, falling to his knees right by their side.” _

_ Holt grins. “It’s right… here!” He snaps his fingers in front of Jackson’s face and a small flame leaps out, red-hot and close enough to singe his brother's eyebrows. _

_ Jackson screams out in shock and falls onto his back, scuttling away like the bugs he loves so much.  _

_ “Oh gosh you’re right! He is a pussy!” Heath laughs rancorously. “Make ‘im cry!” _

_ “Cry!” Holt demands, climbing onto Jackson's stomach to hold him down. “Cry, frikkin’ normie! Cry for me!” _

_ Jackson’s already gasping for breath, so it’s not long before he’s sobbing as well. Holt’s breath quickens as Jackson’s eyes get wetter and wetter, body tight in some sort of sick anticipation. He wants to lick the tears off Jackson’s soft cheeks, figure out if they really taste like salt, just get the essence of Jackson’s pain and sorrow inside of his mouth.  _

_ He’s broken out of his trance by Heath poking over his shoulder and he shifts, blocking Jackson from his sight. It doesn’t seem right to let anyone else see Jackson like this. Holt made these tears, they were all for him. _

_ “C’mon, let me see!” Heath whines. _

_ “No.” Holt glares at him. “Screw off.” _

_ They hear their mothers calling for them then, and Heath sticks his tongue out at the brothers before running back inside. When he’s out of sight Holt moves back to marvel at his captured prey, his brother still sobbing weakly.  _

_ Holt swallows hard, his own face flushing with purple as he looks down at him. In this moment he thinks Jackson is prettier than any girl at their school. He has the fleeting thought of kissing his tears away like they do on the shows and movies, but the idea makes his stomach flip in embarrassment. Instead he leans down slowly, dragging his hot tongue across Jackson’s cheek before the other boy can make a move to push him off. _

_ They are salty, if only slightly. Holt digs his new sharp teeth into Jackson’s jaw to make him wince, and then he finally moves off, standing above him. _

_ Holt roughly scrubs at Jackson’s face with his sleeve. “C’mon. Get up.” He holds out a hand to help him up off the ground. No acknowledgement of his own actions, no explanations for Jackson’s benefit.  _

_ Jackson looks at him with red-rimmed eyes that make Holt’s heart flutter and takes his hand gently, always soft and forgiving.  _

_ Holt squeezes his hand and kisses Jackson’s cheek roughly. The taste of salt still lingers on his skin. _

* * *

It wasn't until high school a few years later he figured out it was a sexual thing. Something about the way ~~Jackson’s~~ a person's face got all red, body shaking as they tried to fight their tears from spilling over only to inevitably fail. And the uncontrollable trembling as ~~Jackson~~ they gave into it, letting the sobs wrack their body until they were a whimpering, unconsolable mess. 

So he dated crybabies, banshees, cyclopses with hay fever, but every time he ran into the same problem.

No one cried as prettily as Jackson did.

He was an absolute terror to Jackson at that point, no goals in life but to make Jackson cry oh so nicely to eagerly jerk off to later in secret. The fact that it was his brother didn’t matter, because it was only his tears that got him off. Or at least that’s what he told himself. 

He was perfectly happy like that, discovering sex with girls that cry with pleasure. It’s fine in the moment, having a warm- sometimes cold, sometimes wet, fishy, undead- body beneath him to fuck.

Afterwards he imagines Jackson in their position, crying and hiding his face in his hands as ~~Holt~~ someone fucks into him, forcing a sob out of his throat with every thrust.

It’s not about Jackson. It’s about his tears.

Until Jackson stops giving them to him. 

Holt only torments Jackson in private, appearing to the rest of the world as a perfect brother if not a little distant. It was the best that way becaue no one else got to see Jackson’s tears, no one would stop him, and he could easily tuck himself away to touch himself afterwards.

The easiest way to get tears was physical violence of course, but Holt didn’t like doing that. Jackson would be choking in pain, not on sobs, and his breaths would be harsh and even instead of the shallow gasps he loved so much.

(Plus the idea of actually hurting Jackson makes his stomach churn.)

So, mental violence. He burns up Jackson’s homework, humiliates him in front of friends, pushes him to the absolute limit until his lip is quivering and Holt’s dick is straining in his pants. 

He has a wonderful set up today, a bucket of fake blood carefully perched on top of a door while he has his phone out lazily filming. Palming himself through his jeans he anticipates Jackson’s reaction, body shaking as he tries to hold back the streams of tears fogging up his glasses.

The front door opens and shuts. Holt bites his lip in glee, eagerly starting to record. Not only would he have blackmail on Jackson looking like a fool, as long as he was quiet in his laughter he could later listen to the audio of Jackson losing his composure.

He hears Jackson outside of the door and Holt feels his heartbeat hammering in his chest. The door opens. Jackson steps in. Holt’s plan works perfectly, the bucket landing perfectly over his head and sending the thick red fluid all over him.

Holt bursts out in laughter, adding insult to injury. “You really fell for it! That’s the basic shit Jackson- how dumb can you get?” Jackson doesn't move. The fake blood continues dripping down his clothes, ruining the carpet. “...Yo.” He can't jack off to this. “Have you gone fully stupid now?”

Jackson reaches up as if trudging through molasses- or cornstarch and red dye. He pushes the bucket off his red, spilling more of the concoction onto the floor.

He wipes his face roughly, shaking the blood into the floor. His eyes are dead, devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

“I hate you.” Jackson says quietly. 

The room is silent, save for Holt’s heartbeat. 

“Jackson?” He says hesitantly. “It was just a joke.”

“You’re cruel.” Jackson continues. “Horrible.”

Holt looks down. “I… I just…” Now’s the time to come clean, shamefully admit he’s been abusing Jackson for his own pleasure. 

He chokes. “It’s just, you know… a prank.”

Jackson’s cold eyes give him no comfort. “I hate you.” He says it with more confidence this time, turning on his heel to exit. “Clean this up.”

Holt sits on the edge of the bed, a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach. He sticks his head between his thighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Shit.” He hisses out. “Shit shit shit!”

This isn’t what he wanted. He  _ never  _ wanted this- Jackson to  _ hate  _ him, to look at him with such derision.

He had taken this too far. Fuck, he had taken this to far back when they were children and he would hold Jackson in his lap while forcing him to watch scary movies. 

Holt swallows his bearing heart. He could fix this. He  _ would  _ fix this because he was Holt fucking Hyde and he could do anything.

First on his list, was cleaning the carpet.

* * *

Jackson still doesn’t look at him. 

Holt’s been trying his best, putting in more effort than he’s ever put into anything to make Jackson even smile at him again. No girls in the house, no loud music, hell he even leaves him alone. 

And nothing. Cold indifference, no matter what. 

“Jackson…?” Holt approaches him. “Have you eaten today?”

Jackson doesn’t acknowledge him, caught up in his book.

Holt clears his throat and puts a plate of food down on his desk. It’s nothing special, fruit snacks and candy with an energy drink off to the side. “I Boogled what normies like to eat and got some down at the gas station.” 

“I’m not a  _ pet _ .” Jackson scoffs. 

It’s progress at least. “All individually wrapped so you know I didn’t do anything.”

He backs out of the room, hands up in surrender as if Jackson’s a wild animal. He closes the door behind him but presses his ear to the small opening between the door and frame. 

A wide smile spreads across his face as he hears the crackling of aluminum packaging. 

“Cant belive they call it fucking Boogle.” Jackson grumbles from the other side of the door, but Holt fist pumps all the same. 

* * *

It’s hard work mending their stressed relationship. Holt puts in the most effort on his end because it ultimately was all his fault, but Jackson’s always been a soft little thing forgiving him again and again.

Holt is excitedly chattering off to him about some lame science thing he read the Freakypedia article on the other day, something he does weekly now as part of his desperate attempt to make up. Sometimes Jackson would actually smile down at the floor and correct him and Holt would sheepishly admit he was right.

Bioluminescence was rad as fuck actually, Holt had to admit.

“Why are you doing this?” Jackson asks him quietly. “What’s your end goal here?”

“What do you mean?” Holt cocks his head. Jackson’s looking at the wall and Holt can just barely catch his reflection in the mirror. 

“You’re just trying to make me forgive you so you can break me down again, aren’t you?” Jackson’s emotionless gaze turns into a glare focused in Holt’s direction. “I’m not going to fall for it.”

Holt shakes his head. “No, no Jackson I’m just tryin’ to apologize.”

“Then say that!” Jackson’s shoulders are tense. “Stop with all this… overly nice stuff!”

“That’s not enough.” Holt chews on the inside of his cheek. “I want you to forgive me.”

Jackson laughs at that, a horrible cruel sound. “Why should I do that?”

“I never meant for things to go so far I just…” Holt takes a deep breath. “I… I like watching you cry.”

“Well I know  _ that _ .” Jackson seethes, rolling his eyes.

Holt rubs the back of his head, staring up at the ceiling. “No you don’t get it, I  _ like  _ watching you cry. Like, I really,  _ really  _ like it.” He squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for Jackson’s exclamation of disgust.

“You…  _ get off  _ on it?” Jackson’s voice is breathy and surprised, not the outright horror he expected.

“Yeah.” Holt breathes out. “I’ve tried watching other people but… it’s only you.” He’s too scared to open his eyes so he just waits, listening for gagging or the door slamming shut. Quiet hitched breaths are the last thing he expected, immediately drawing his attention. He feels blood rushing under his skin as Jackson dabs at his eyes, his face blushing dark purple as his cock stirs. “Jack- Jackson-“

Jackson smiles, shaky but smug. “That… makes a lot of sense actually.” His chest starts to heave and he wraps his arms around himself to keep it together. “You… you’re sick.”

Holt presses the hell of his hand against his cock, keening softly. “What’re you doing?” 

“T-this is what you want right?” Jackson takes a step forward. “Wanna watch me cry f-for you. Freak.”

Holt’s vision is blurry, panting into the air. “Don’t do this to me, c’mon.”

“You really are getting hard…” Jackson's eyes are wide in wonder. The tears caught in his eyelashes glisten in the low light of the room, shining brightly.

Holt has to force himself to breath out steadily instead of moaning. “You’re so fuckin’ hot.” He hisses out between his teeth. “So pretty when you cry.”

Jackson’s breath stutters, shoulders heaving and Holt can’t resist, finally unzipping his jeans and taking his cock in his hand. “Wh- why me?”

“I dunno.” Holt says honestly. “Your eyes are pretty, so  _ so _ pretty all wet and red. An-and your cute voice stuttering an’ gasping for breath makes me wanna hold you down…” He swallows down shame, suppressing it entirely to admit the truth he’s been hiding from even himself. “God I wanna fuck you Jackie. Watch you cry on my cock instead of having to tease you all the time.”

Jackson’s face is already red from weeping but Holt’s pretty sure he blushes. He takes another step towards where Holt is frantically fucking into his hand, eyes darting back from his fist to his face. 

“If you just- if you just told me this could’ve- could’ve been a lot easier.” Jackson struggles to speak between body wrenching sobs. “Would prefer- crying for you instead of- of getting hurt.”

Holt reaches out for Jackson’s waist, pulling him in close. Tears and snot rub off on his shoulder and Holt thrusts up against Jackson’s trembling body and licks the tears from his face. 

“You taste good.” He moans out. “This mean you forgive me?”

“May-maybe.” Jackson gasps. “Make it up to me.”

Holt smiles, flashing his sharp teeth. “Of course, of course baby c’mere-“ He takes his hand off his cock for a second, quickly undoing the zipper on Jackson’s tight jeans. 

Jackson absolutely wails out when Holt’s fingers slip between his legs, finding his clit with practiced ease. “Wet for me.” Holt teases him, rubbing rough circles around the swollen nub. “Weeping down here too, huh?”

Jackson takes Holt’s cock in his hand, pumping his slowly. His slides are uneven, entire body jerking with the force of his cries and small thrusts against Holt’s hand. 

Holt collects the freshly fallen tears with his tongue, moaning in appreciation. “I was right. Your pleasure tears are so sweet.” He twists his fingers at a deeper angle, working them in and out of Jackson’s virgin cunt. “Bet your pussy tastes better though.”

“ _ Holt _ .” Jackson cries out. “Hhh-hholt I can’t-“ Wave after wave of tears flood down his face and Holt thrusts into Jackson’s still hand as he fingers him fast and hard.

“Come on Jackie, I wanna see you cry cummin’ for me.” Holt pants in his ear. “Show me your pretty face.”

Jackson cumming is a beautiful sight, absolutely wrecked and gasping for breath and Holt overwhelms him with pleasure. He’s ruthless on Jackson’s cunt, roughly teasing his clit as he thrusts deeper inside his tight hole. “Gotta have you on my cock baby, gonna make you cry again and again- you only cry for me, just like I’m the only one seein’ your slutty fuckin’ face-“

Holt comes not soon after, biting down on the crook of Jackson’s neck and listening to his cries of pain and pleasure. He wraps his arms around Jackson afterwards, bringing him down as he cries into Holt’s shoulder. He kisses his brother's temple and rocks him back and forth until the sobs subside, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

Jackson clears his throat thickly and Holt lets him go, stepping back. Holt’s breath catches at the sight of him, disheveled and red faced with his pants tugged down his legs, slick coating his inner thighs.

“We good?” Holt asks awkwardly.

Jackson wipes at his eyes with a choked laugh. “You have a lot more to make up to me.”

Holt chuckles in response. “Or what? Gonna cry about it?”

Jackson punches him in the shoulder. “... maybe.”

“That’s hot.”

“You’re weird.”

“I’m… I’m really sorry Jackson.” Holt says again. “What I did was pretty fucked up.”

“Yeah it was.” Jackson nods in agreement, wiping his wet hand on Holt’s shirt. “It’s nice to know you don’t want to kill me though.”

Holt heart lifts. “So you don’t hate me?”

“No.” Jackson shakes his head. “Of course not.”

“Well uh, good.” Holt clears his throat. 

A bear of silence passes between them.

“So is this gonna happen again?” Holt asks in a high voice. “Cause like- heat of the moment I understand. Y’know-“

Jackson blushes, nervously tapping his fingertips together “I-I believe you said something about, ah, m-making me cry on your uh, cock?” His voice trails off to a whisper, collapsing into himself to hide.

Holt fists pumps violently. “Fuck yeah, we better get some sports drinks baby cause I’m gonna make you de-fucking-hydrated.”

“Pffff- oh my god.”

“What’s that sad normie movie about journals? First date, come on let’s GO!” He grabs Jackson’s hand, pulling him along.

“Holt, wait!” Jackson stands his ground, pulling back against Holt. 

“What?” Holt asks. “Oh do you not- I mean we don’t have to-“

Jackson sighs in irritation. “Can we put our junk away first?”

Holt looks down at both of them, still completely exposed. “Oh, uh. Yeah.”

He turns away to tuck himself back in his pants, face burning violet. He nervously peeks over his shoulder to look at Jackson, tugging on a fresh shirt. His chest is smooth save for his nipples, puffy and pink and begging to be pinched and pulled at. Cute little whore tits, so sensitive and so fucking  _ fat- _

Holt’s dick gives a weak twitch in his jeans and he forces himself to think about bioluminescent animals to bring it down. 

He’s banging his head on the door when he feels a hand on his shoulder. “Holt? You okay?”

Holt jumps immediately. “Yeah! Yeah I mean. How are you?”

“Wet.” Jackson admits. He’s rubbing his thighs together ever so slightly and Holt wants nothing more but to be between them. “Gatorade and the Notebook?”

“What the fuck’s a gatorade?”

**Author's Note:**

> I DONT REMEBERRR holt or heath ever crying in canon but I’m sure it happened once or twice (heaths a pussy lol) but I love making up bs monster anatomy 
> 
> title is from lana del reys pretty when you cry btw ;-; also sorry for the boogle joke twice it it too fucking funny to me
> 
> bioluminescent animals are cool as hell actually


End file.
